Page 5 of Between the Lines

He has no accent that would place him clearly from a certain area of the country. No distinguishing features that lean toward either coast.

He’s likely my age. Around twenty-nine, but maybe a bit older. No more than thirty-five, I think. “You’re studying me again,” he says even as he deals the cards.

“I thought that was an essential part of poker.”

“It certainly helps.”

“How many rounds do we play?”

“Let’s say… best of five. Might take a while.” His eyes narrow, and there’s a thrill of competition in them that sends energy surging through me. “I hope you don’t have somewhere to be.”

I reach for my cards. “I do. I just need to win access to it first.”

He grins and reaches for his own cards.

The first game takes longer than I’d expected. He’s a confident, forceful player, but not stupid. He doesn’t make silly mistakes.

I make one, right off the bat. Risking it when I already have sixteen.

There’s no need to clue him into my past. Or that I just spent four months working with the world champion of online poker, helping him pen his memoir. I recently left him in Chicago after turning in the second draft of the book.

Sure, blackjack is much simpler. No chips. Closest to twenty-one wins. But you still have to bet with the odds.

Aiden wins the first round. I shake my head. “Damn.”

“The night is young,” he says.

The people around us clearly feel differently. They have been dropping off—table after table—wrapping up their dinners. Unprompted, the waiter comes by with a bowl of nuts for us and silently pours Aiden another bourbon. I’m still on my second glass of wine.

“Maybe we should up the stakes a little,” I say. It’s my time to deal this time, and the emotions have made me brave. I feel like someone else, someone who knows how to have these kinds of conversations and say these kinds of things.

Aiden raises an eyebrow. “Oh? What are you thinking.”

“I know nothing about you,” I say. “I think it’s only fair that the winner of a round also gets to… ask a question of their choice. And the other person has to answer.”

“Do you want to get to know me, Chaos?”

“That’s the stupidest nickname.”

That half smile flashes again. “Is it? Because that’s exactly what you are. But I’m game. Your turn to deal.”

We play in concentrated silence. It’s not an easy one. The air is taut between us, and I notice every move he makes. The curl of his hand around his tumbler. The shift of his long legs under the table, one of them brushing my calf.

He doesn’t feel like a typical hiker.

Plenty of tells to give him away. His boots are well used and top-of-the-line. Expensive. But his pants look new, and his leather jacket is absolutely nothing a hiker would choose.

A study in contrasts.

He looks at his cards. “So. Where are you headed?”

“LA.”

His eyebrows lift. “LA, huh? Big city compared to this place.”

“Yes. Have you ever been?”

His lips quirk. “Once or twice, yeah.”

---